


counterpoint

by TtotheYong



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Classical Music, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Spit As Lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:55:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28037271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TtotheYong/pseuds/TtotheYong
Summary: counterpoint/ˈkoun(t)ərˌpoint/n.--the combination of two or more independent melodies into a single harmonic textureyes i finally changed my ao3 name to something slightly less aggravating for me to type (was TtotheAtotheEtotheYONG)
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 18
Kudos: 189





	counterpoint

“Fuck you.” Taeyong rolls his eyes, too tired to put real heat behind his words. It’s always the same shit. 

“Do you want to?”

Taeyong hesitates, his fingers stilling on the piano keys. “What?” 

“Do you want to fuck me? You can, if you want.” 

Taeyong looks up and stares. This is unexpected. 

Or maybe it isn’t. Maybe he should have known that the precise type of irritating Jung Jaehyun has been these past two weeks might stem from this. From desire. Or something. If they were 15, Taeyong probably would’ve guessed sooner, pushing buttons being, in his experience, the main way people flirted at that age. But they’re well past that, so Taeyong supposes he can forgive himself for just assuming Jaehyun is an irritating asshole. 

“I don’t want to fuck you.” Taeyong glances back at the sheet music spread out in front of him, well-worn and covered in scribbled notes. He hopes he sounds convincing. Jaehyun really is irritating, Taeyong should be disappointed in himself for even being tempted. But this is probably why Jaehyun’s never developed his flirting techniques beyond those of a clueless teenager, Taeyong thinks: because it just keeps working for him. People forgive so much when it comes from someone with a handsome face and perfect body. He wishes people were better than that. He wishes he were better than that. 

“Ah, you want me to top then? That’s fine with me. Your wish is my command.”

Taeyong can hear Jaehyun’s infuriating smile in every word. He doesn’t even have to look at him to picture it, and the dimples alongside it, and the way his eyes crease…. He looks up and glares. “You’re an asshole.” Jaehyun smiles wider and Taeyong throws up a hand, regretting his choice of words. “ _Don’t_ say anything. We’re not having sex. Please shut up and let’s get back to work. At this rate we’ll be up all night.”

“Trust me, baby, staying up all night with me is nothing to complain about.” 

Taeyong thinks there’s a significant chance he might punch Jaehyun in the face before this rehearsal is over, but Jaehyun, either coincidentally or because he decides he should back off after all, turns and lifts his violin. He settles it under his chin and Taeyong relaxes a little as he senses Jaehyun slip back into concentration, his attention wholly consumed again by the instrument and by the music on the stand in front of him. 

This happens like a switch every time Jaehyun picks up his violin, Taeyong’s noticed, with no small amount of fascination. As impossible as the man is in every casual conversation, with his incessant teasing and baffling immaturity—he actually _hid Taeyong’s sheet music_ on their third day of rehearsal, and just cackled and called Taeyong cute while he hunted for it—he takes the music seriously. And the music he makes is beautiful. Taeyong isn’t too petty to admit that. He’s started looking forward to every time Jaehyun picks up his violin, partly because it means he’s finally going to shut up, but mostly because Taeyong loves listening to him play. He’s the kind of musician that’s rare, even among the top tier of musicians that Taeyong is part of. Good musicians perfect their technical skills. Great musicians use those skills to channel feeling through their music, to move an audience. Taeyong thinks he’s a great musician. But Jaehyun is something else entirely. When he lifts the bow, and slides it over the taut quivering strings, he doesn’t just convey a mood through the notes, he conveys himself. The feelings in the music he plays aren’t the composer’s, or the audience’s, they are his own, purely and completely, until the piece is over and the last string stills to silence. 

And then, unfortunately, he goes back to being excruciatingly obnoxious. “If you’re not going to play, I can think of a number of other ways to keep your lovely fingers occupied.” Taeyong narrows his eyes and turns back to the piano keys. He takes a breath and starts to play, his annoyance fading as he does, and then melting away completely as Jaehyun’s achingly perfect notes join in and swell to fill the empty concert hall around them. 

They’ve only been working together in person for two weeks, traveling to this city to rehearse for the large charity event they’re performing at the following evening—one of the most well-known young concert pianists in the world and an up-and-coming violin prodigy, performing together in front of an audience of millionaires whose enormous charitable donations will barely make a dent in their even more enormous wealth. They’re in the concert hall now, as they have been almost every evening since they arrived; the event organizers have been eager enough to keep them both happy that they’ve allowed them to use the space every day. The hall is brand new, so new that paint was, quite literally, still drying on the walls the first day Jaehyun and Taeyong arrived, and their performance will be the first one to fill the space with music. Taeyong starts feeling slightly shivery whenever he thinks too much about this. He’s been performing in front of audiences since he was a child, but he’s never really gotten past the nerves. 

Taeyong’s fingers move over the keys, and the music envelops him. This happens sometimes when he plays, and he’s noticed it happening a lot when he plays with Jaehyun. He can feel, with utmost certainty even though the piece has barely started, that he will play it perfectly. The strong clear notes of the piano resonate through the quivering lightness of the violin, both of them in perfect counterpoint for these few exceptional moments. 

Taeyong comes to the end of the piece, and sits still and listens as Jaehyun plays out his final measures over the piano’s last sustained note. This is his favorite part, every time they play. Maybe he just likes it because it’s a chance to truly listen to Jaehyun. It only lasts a moment, the span of a deep, slow breath, and then Jaehyun’s final note is fading too, and the large hall falls silent. Taeyong stares at the keys in front of him. The piece isn’t sad—you don’t exactly want to depress an audience of potential donors—but his chest aches. He thinks this is the best they’ve ever played. He opens his mouth to say something to this effect, when—

“So, now that’s out of the way, let’s get back to the much more interesting topic of who will be fucking whom.” 

Taeyong has mostly handled these two weeks with a resigned, if annoyed, sort of patience, like one would handle a child they were forced to tolerate. Jaehyun is irritating, but harmless, and he’s a beautiful violinist—frankly he’s beautiful period, not, Taeyong tries to remind himself, that that should count for anything. But now Taeyong’s patience slips. Maybe it’s because he’s frustrated with himself for even considering Jaehyun’s… proposal. Maybe it’s that the piece they just played is still humming inside him and the knowledge that Jaehyun can play like that, so incredibly perfectly, and then think nothing of it, is too much for Taeyong to bear. 

He spins around on the piano bench. Jaehyun is lowering his violin into its case gently, not looking at Taeyong, who feels some small satisfaction in the way Jaehyun jumps when Taeyong snaps, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

Jaehyun turns and stares, looking startled. Taeyong is almost startled himself. He didn’t think anything could take Jaehyun by surprise. But Taeyong is truly at the end of his rope, so he just glares Jaehyun down until he asks, “What?” It sounds like a genuine question, which annoys Taeyong even more. 

“What do you mean, _What_? I’ve never worked with anyone as unprofessional as you, ever. You just make jokes and bother me half the time, but then when you play….” He lets out an annoyed huff. “You’re clearly a genius, every note you play is so fucking _beautiful_ , and you don’t even seem to care! I don’t get it!”

Jaehyun’s mouth is practically agape. Finally he blinks and says, “You think what I play is beautiful?” 

It’s Taeyong’s turn to stare now. He considers the possibility that Jaehyun is simply deranged. The line between genius and insanity is a fine one, after all. He manages to keep his voice calm as he says, “ _That’s_ what you took from this? Of course you play beautifully. Don’t pull some fake humble bullshit now, Jaehyun, there’s no way you reach this level without knowing how talented you are.”

“No,” Jaehyun says, and he still sounds sincere, not argumentative, so Taeyong doesn’t storm out of the place right then and there. “That’s not what I meant. I know I’m… good.” Taeyong raises an eyebrow. “I know how good I am. I just… you always have a criticism to make, whenever we play. I didn’t think _you_ thought I was good.” 

Taeyong frowns. He hadn’t been criticizing Jaehyun’s playing. Of course he had comments, but they had never played together before, and this was an important performance for both of them. “These are rehearsals, Jaehyun, the whole point is for us to get better. Has no one given you notes when you’ve worked with them before?” 

Jaehyun’s shoulders twitch as though he’s stopped himself from shrugging. “No, usually they just compliment me.” Well, Taeyong thinks wryly, that explains a lot. “But I haven’t worked with a lot of people before, definitely no one like you. I haven’t performed anywhere this big before. No one even knows who I am. And you keep pointing out all these things I never thought about before. And….” Jaehyun trails off and looks away. 

Taeyong watches him thoughtfully. He doesn’t want to forgive Jaehyun for being so impossible, if not downright disrespectful, for the past two weeks. But he also knows better than most the effect nerves can have. He’s lost his temper more than once while preparing for performances, even inconsequential ones, and his family and friends have probably all put up with it more than he really gives them credit for. It just hadn’t crossed his mind that Jaehyun might be nervous himself. He always seemed so much happier when he was playing than when he wasn’t. It seemed effortless for him to get lost in his music, and Taeyong just couldn’t imagine something as trivial as an audience even registering for an artist of that caliber. 

“And what?” Taeyong says. He’s hoping for an actual apology. He definitely deserves that. 

Jaehyun looks at him and Taeyong thinks he can almost see his infuriating childishness trying to take over again and make a joke. But he doesn’t seem to be joking when he says, “And I keep thinking about you.” 

This is not an apology. Taeyong doesn’t know what this is. “You what?” 

Jaehyun takes a step forward. “I keep thinking about you. I’m sorry I’m… probably an idiot. I know I am. I’m sorry I was rude. But….” 

Taeyong’s eyes narrow. “You’re sorry _but_?”

“No, I mean….” Jaehyun falters. “I’m sorry for everything I said. No buts. I know it’s… obnoxious. Sometimes it works, honestly, I don’t know, but I should’ve known better, with you.” Jaehyun notices Taeyong’s expression and backtracks. “I mean with everyone, in general, I should know better, you’re right. But, well, is there any chance you could overlook how, er, annoying I was about it all and still believe that I was telling the truth?” 

“What?” Taeyong isn’t sure he’s following anymore. 

“I mean, you really can fuck me, if you want. Or I’ll fuck you. I really don’t care. I just want you.” 

Taeyong is so shocked he leans back and his elbows jam into the piano keys, which let out a discordant mess of sound that echoes into the rafters even after Taeyong pulls his elbows quickly away. He’s grateful because the sound gives him a moment to try to think of something to say. Unfortunately, when the sound fades he still isn’t any closer to thinking of a response. 

This is ridiculous. The response, Taeyong tells himself, should be _no_. But he can’t quite make himself say something so final. He certainly can’t let himself just say _yes_ , though, so he finally manages, “Aren’t you kind of getting ahead of yourself?” 

“You’re right.” Jaehyun has been frozen this whole time, but now he takes another two steps forward until he’s suddenly standing— _looming_ , Taeyong’s mind suggests, as he tips his head back to look up at him—right in front of the piano bench. “I can suck you off first.” 

Taeyong makes a strangled sound. “That’s _not_ what I meant. Haven’t you ever asked someone out on a date before? You know, properly?” 

Jaehyun tilts his head and, oh no, the mischievous smile is definitely lurking there again. “Haven’t you ever gotten fucked on a stage before? You know, _properly_?”

Taeyong doesn’t bother thinking of a reply to this, and then he gives up on thinking altogether when Jaehyun drops to his knees. Taeyong’s eyes follow him, until he’s looking down slightly at Jaehyun’s face. His eyes search Taeyong’s for a moment as he leans forward, his hands resting on the bench on either side of Taeyong, not touching him. They’re almost at eye level like this, but not quite, and Jaehyun stops leaning in after a moment, when Taeyong stays sitting straight and still above him. 

And then Jaehyun just… waits. He looks up at Taeyong, who’s face is angled above him, just out of reach, and he doesn’t move. For some reason Taeyong thinks about the piece they just played. The two instruments, with two separate lines of music, that sound completely different played separately, and yet somehow fit together when they’re played in time. The counterpoint of the piano’s rich chords to the violin’s staccato brightness. 

Taeyong doesn’t lean in so much as he just slouches, his spine relaxing ever so slightly, bringing his face marginally closer to Jaehyun’s. It’s enough. Jaehyun stretches up and kisses him, not softly. It’s as though that moment of hesitating never happened at all. His hand is at the back of Taeyong’s neck and his torso is between Taeyong’s knees. This is a relief, Taeyong thinks. He wants this—now that it’s happening, he _definitely_ wants this—but he doesn’t really want to be responsible for whatever _this_ turns into. He thinks he still has enough plausible deniability, if he needs it. Just in case, he pulls away and whispers, “We shouldn’t do this here. Someone could come in. If they find us—“ 

Jaehyun takes advantage of the space between them to start undoing the buttons of Taeyong’s shirt. “Don’t pretend that doesn’t excite you.” 

Taeyong stares. Jaehyun’s eyes are on the buttons he’s rapidly undoing, on the skin of Taeyong’s chest, then stomach, as it gets exposed. Taeyong has never done anything like this anywhere even remotely public before. It’s never even occurred to him to want to. But Jaehyun’s words make him aware of the vast empty space around them, the rows and rows of plush seats waiting to be filled tomorrow. The sense of being observed always persists on a stage, whether in front of an audience of 5 or 500. Or an audience of none, apparently. Taeyong’s skin crawls and his breath quickens. He doesn’t want Jaehyun to be right. He turns and looks out at the dark empty seats stretching away to the doors, lost in shadow. If someone were standing there he wouldn’t even know. He thinks Jaehyun might be right. 

Taeyong jumps as Jaehyun’s lips press suddenly against his chest and he turns back, automatically gripping his shoulder but not quite able to push him away. Jaehyun moves his lips over his chest, pushing Taeyong’s shirt off one shoulder, until he licks over his hard nipple. Taeyong shudders and digs his fingers harder into Jaehyun’s muscular shoulder. Jaehyun sucks hard enough to be almost painful, but heat pools in Taeyong’s stomach and he bites his lip to keep from making a sound that the hall’s state-of-the-art acoustics would carry mortifyingly far. This requires enough concentration that he only belatedly realizes that Jaehyun’s hand’s are undoing his pants, tugging at the tight waistband of his briefs, and then, before Taeyong has quite caught up to what’s happening, there’s a disorienting moment of coldness as the air hits his half-hard cock, and then heat as Jaehyun pulls away from Taeyong’s chest and swallows him down. 

Taeyong inhales sharply. “Wait—“ 

Jaehyun pulls back and looks up at Taeyong, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t worry, I’m good at this.” 

Taeyong rolls his eyes, but the effect is somewhat ruined when Jaehyun pushes Taeyong’s legs open wider and licks slowly up his shaft, before closing his lips over the tip. He swirls his tongue over the slit, and then slides his mouth down, agonizingly slow. Of course, Taeyong thinks through the haze of his building arousal, Jaehyun would be just as irritating doing this as he is doing almost anything else. And of course—Taeyong glares at the ceiling—Jaehyun would indeed be good at this, the way he is at everything else. 

Jaehyun starts bobbing his head, fingers digging into Taeyong’s thighs. Taeyong manages to grope behind him and lower the piano’s fallboard so that this time when he leans back his elbows don’t smash a cacophony into the keys. Jaehyun glances up when he feels Taeyong’s torso shift back above him, but he doesn’t slow his pace. Taeyong finds himself staring back down at him, eyes trailing over the hollows of Jaehyun’s cheeks around his cock and the deepening flush of his skin. He stretches a hand out and threads it through Jaehyun’s hair, pushing it back off his forehead, and Jaehyun’s eyes flutter shut. He hums quietly, the sound reverberating lowly into Taeyong’s body. This is interesting. Taeyong tightens his fingers a little, experimentally… and Jaehyun moans, his fingers clutching at the fabric of Taeyong’s pants. This is definitely interesting. 

Taeyong tightens his fingers more, pulling at Jaehyun’s hair, not hard, but hard enough to be noticeable. He presses against his scalp, pushing him down a little, and Jaehyun moans again, higher pitched than before. Taeyong relaxes his hand and lets him pull back, but Jaehyun opens his eyes as he does and stares up with some intensity in his gaze that wasn’t there before. His pupils are wide and dark and desperate. Taeyong tightens his hand in his hair again, pushes him down harder than before, watching his eyes. Sure enough his gaze slides out of focus and he squeezes his eyes shut again, lets Taeyong push him down until, _fuck_ , his nose is pressed into the hair at the base of Taeyong’s cock and the back of his throat is flexing around the tip. He makes another sound, different than before because, well. But he doesn’t try to pull away, and his hands are still tight on Taeyong’s legs, almost… pulling at him. 

None of this is what Taeyong expected from Jaehyun, this sudden shift to something like neediness. He’s not sure he’s ever seen someone enjoy having a dick shoved down their throat quite this much. Jaehyun’s moving slightly, nodding, Taeyong realizes, as much as he’s able to, anyway. Taeyong shifts his hips up a little, carefully, thrusting shallowly into Jaehyun’s throat. Jaehyun’s jaw goes slack as Taeyong thrusts into him again, and again, spit starting to slide out of his mouth as Taeyong finds a rhythm and fucks his mouth. Taeyong’s so fascinated by this unexpected side of Jaehyun—this, after he so confidently, even arrogantly, initiated everything—that he only dimly registers how close to orgasm he’s getting. But the heat in his stomach is there, the tightness in his thighs; he’s panting unevenly and it takes all his remaining concentration to hold back so he doesn’t hurt Jaehyun. He’s not exactly sure where the line is, for Jaehyun—it’s certainly not where he thought it would be—but he doesn’t want to find out by crossing it. 

Before Taeyong finds release, Jaehyun makes a strangled sound and pulls back. Taeyong lets go of his head quickly and Jaehyun slides off of Taeyong’s cock and kneels there for a moment, coughing and breathing hard. His lips and eyes are wet. He draws the back of his hand across his mouth and chin and gets stiffly to his feet, unbuttoning his own shirt buttons with shaky hurried fingers. 

Taeyong can see how hard Jaehyun is even before he undoes his pants, and he expects him to come over and ask for the favor to be returned, but instead he leans down and kisses Taeyong. Taeyong finishes unbuttoning Jaehyun’s shirt himself, then slides his hands over his taut stomach and firm chest. He starts to stand up, and Jaehyun clutches his waist and pulls him closer, making a soft sound into his mouth when their bodies align and Taeyong shifts his hips against him. Jaehyun pushes one hand down Taeyong’s back, lower under the waistband of his briefs. He digs his fingers into his flesh, stretches lower still and presses against his entrance. 

Taeyong stretches his arms up around Jaehyun’s shoulders, his skin humming as their bare chests and stomachs press against each other. He can feel Jaehyun’s hardness against him, and he shifts until he manages to get his own hand down between them and into Jaehyun’s pants. Jaehyun groans and presses more insistently against Taeyong’s entrance as he kisses his throat and mumbles, “Please, let me inside you.” 

In answer Taeyong tips his head back to give better access to his throat, and arches back against Jaehyun’s fingers until he feels one press inside him. It’s dry, and uncomfortable, but it still sends a thrill shooting through him and makes him even harder, which he hadn’t thought was possible. Jaehyun stops kissing his neck and drops his forehead to Taeyong’s shoulder, pressing his finger further into him. Taeyong’s hand is still wrapped around Jaehyun’s cock, but their bodies are pressed together so tightly that he can’t really move it, and Jaehyun just rocks against him, almost like he’s not aware he’s doing it. 

Jaehyun pulls away suddenly and turns Taeyong around, bending him over until his hands are braced on the piano bench. He shivers, staring at the glossy piano in front of him, suddenly aware again of where they are, how on display they’d be if anyone decided to walk in. 

Jaehyun pulls Taeyong’s pants down his thighs and spreads him apart, and Taeyong gasps as Jaehyun’s tongue slides over his entrance and starts to lick inside. Taeyong can feel himself relaxing quickly. He can’t deny that he’s eager for this. The obscene sounds of Jaehyun’s mouth behind him fill the space and Taeyong’s neck burns with both shame and pleasure. “Okay,” Taeyong gasps. “I’m ready, come on.” He’s not sure how ready he really is, but he wants this. He’d been so close to coming down Jaehyun’s throat, now he’s impatient. 

Jaehyun pulls away, kissing over Taeyong’s ass, to the small of his back, up his spine. When he gets to his neck, he sucks a mark into the skin at his nape. His hand appears in front of Taeyong’s face. “Spit.” Taeyong manages to, and Jaehyun’s hand disappears, and then Jaehyun’s pressing inside him. His hands are tight on Taeyong’s hips. Taeyong knows this isn’t the smartest thing he’s ever done, for multiple reasons, but he finds it hard to care. He looks back over his shoulder. Jaehyun’s head is down, watching himself enter Taeyong, his chest rising and falling and his stomach clenched. Jaehyun curses under his breath and Taeyong’s mouth goes dry. 

“You’re so big,” Taeyong says breathlessly, partly because it’s true, partly because he wants to see Jaehyun’s reaction. He likes how worked up Jaehyun’s gotten, because of him. He likes that he can have that effect on someone, especially someone who didn’t seem like the type to come undone easily. 

Sure enough Jaehyun’s eyes snap up to meet Taeyong’s. They’re dark and heated. He licks his lips. “Yeah, and you’re so fucking tight.” He suddenly thrusts the rest of his length into Taeyong, hard enough that Taeyong cries out and has to catch himself on the piano to keep himself from being thrown forward. Jaehyun doesn’t give him a chance to catch his breath before he’s pulling out and slamming into him again, finding a harsh pace that burns inside and out. Taeyong gives up on staying quiet, and lets out the moans and whimpers that Jaehyun punches out of him with every thrust. 

Jaehyun yanks suddenly on Taeyong’s shirt, not slowing his pace at all, and Taeyong awkwardly twists his arms up one at a time to let him pull the shirt off before it can tear. Then Jaehyun’s fingers are suddenly gripping his chin, pushing into his mouth hard enough to tip Taeyong’s head back. He gags and Jaehyun pulls his fingers back just enough not to choke him, but he leaves his fingers hooked into his mouth and pressing on his tongue. He moans, swallowing uselessly with his lips forced open like this. Spit coats Jaehyun’s fingers and slides down Taeyong’s chin. “Fuck, Taeyong, you’re so… fuck.” Taeyong wants to know what Jaehyun thinks he is, but he can’t ask with his mouth full of his fingers and shaky moans the only sounds he’s capable of making. He’s so hard it hurts. His cock leaks with his desire and he desperately wants to touch himself, but it’s taking all his effort just to hold himself up as Jaehyun drives into him and he can’t spare a hand for anything else. 

Jaehyun slides his free hand down from Taeyong’s hip to his ass, squeezing hard enough to bruise. “Can I…?” He trails off, sounding a little dazed, his thrusts slowing, but he smacks Taeyong’s ass lightly to finish the question. 

Taeyong twists his head around again, tries to speak. Jaehyun pulls his fingers out of his mouth. “Yeah,” Taeyong manages, his voice hoarse. “Do… whatever you want.” He desperately wants to come but the agonizing closeness of it without any relief provides some twisted type of pleasure in itself. Jaehyun starts fucking into him again and his hand comes down hard and ringing on his ass. Taeyong whimpers, dropping his head between his shoulders. Jaehyun smacks him again, harder, or maybe it just feels that way on the already sensitive flesh, and Taeyong’s elbows buckle before he manages to catch himself. “Jaehyun….” His voice breaks as Jaehyun slaps him again in the same spot. His moan sounds more like a sob. “Jaehyun, please, I need to come, please.” 

“Can you come like this?”

Taeyong shakes his head, tired and frantic, his arms shaking. “No, not fast enough, please, touch me.” 

“I am touching you.” Jaehyun’s hand lands hard on Taeyong’s ass again. Taeyong’s knuckles whiten against the piano bench and a wave of annoyance goes through him. It’s somehow thrilling. Or maybe that’s just the way Jaehyun’s cock is still driving into him again and again. 

“ _Jaehyun_ , I mean it, let me come.” 

Jaehyun leans over and lifts a knee onto the piano bench, his chest pressing into Taeyong’s back. His skin is so hot Taeyong imagines blisters forming where they touch. He reaches one hand around Taeyong’s chest and squeezes his nipple. Taeyong makes a strangled sound. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears and knows if it weren’t for Jaehyun’s arm holding up his chest he’d collapse. But then, finally, Jaehyun reaches down and wraps his other hand around Taeyong’s cock. He starts to stroke him slowly, his grip too loose. Taeyong is going to lose his mind. He reaches back and twists his fingers into the hair at the back of Jaehyun’s neck, pulling hard. Jaehyun groans and chuckles lowly and bites Taeyong’s neck. But he tightens his grip around his cock and starts jerking him off properly. Taeyong moans loudly. 

He can tell he’s a mess, mouth and chin still covered with his own spit, skin covered in sweat, his cock leaking precome until Jaehyun’s hand glides easily over him. He doesn’t usually fall apart like this. But he thinks Jaehyun is just as far gone, as he licks at Taeyong’s neck and sucks on the lobe of his ear, his thrusts becoming uneven. “Come on,” Jaehyun mumbles. “You begged to come, so come. I want to see you. I want to feel you come, Taeyong, you feel so good already, better than I imagined. Fuck, I wanna know what it feels like to be inside you while you come.”

The words drive right under Taeyong’s skin, make his chest ache and his stomach clench. “Yes, I’m gonna… fuck.” Jaehyun presses deep inside him, and his hand on Taeyong’s cock keeps time with his thrusts. The pleasure has already built so much that Taeyong is vaguely amazed he hasn’t come already. He didn’t know it was possible to feel quite like this. It’s like he can feel his orgasm building throughout his whole body; even his mouth tingles with it. 

Jaehyun pinches his nipple again, and that finally does it. Taeyong comes harder than he thinks he ever has. His mind empties completely, he doesn’t see the piano in front of him or the stage around them or all the empty seats below. He just feels, as his orgasm pulses through him and doesn’t stop even when he’s emptied out. He vaguely registers Jaehyun moaning and pulling out behind him, and he crumples to the floor as soon as Jaehyun lets go of him. Something hot and wet hits the back of his shoulder and his arm, and slides down unpleasantly, mingling with his sweat. He rests his cheek against the piano bench, clutches the cool painted wood to keep from sprawling completely onto the floor, and shakes and whimpers as he slowly comes down. 

When he’s returned to his senses enough to be aware of his surroundings again, he realizes Jaehyun is kneeling behind him, arms around his waist as he kisses Taeyong’s cheek and then shifts so they can look at each other. “You okay?” Jaehyun’s voice is rough and Taeyong remembers how he looked earlier with his lips stretched around his cock. Another flare of heat goes through him and he shudders weakly. Jaehyun brushes the hair away from his forehead and thumbs over his cheek, watching him. 

“Yeah,” Taeyong manages. “You?” 

Jaehyun laughs. “I’m great. You’re amazing, Taeyong, really.” Taeyong tries to roll his eyes although they end up fluttering with tiredness. Jaehyun kisses his cheek. “I’m serious.” 

“I can’t figure you out,” Taeyong says sleepily. Jaehyun just watches him curiously. “You’re always so different from… yourself. Even during sex. Like there are so many Jaehyuns, I can’t tell which one is really you.” 

“Well, which one do you like best?” Jaehyun asks quietly. 

Taeyong eyes him for a moment. “That’s not how you’re supposed to answer that question,” he says finally. “That’s not how things work.” 

Jaehyun squeezes Taeyong’s shoulder absently. “I don’t think I have an answer for you then. I’ve never not been myself.” He laughs a little. “I’m sure you’re wishing the Jaehyun that teased you all this time wasn’t real, but….” He’s smiling self-consciously and Taeyong finds a small smile on his own face to mirror it. “People have different sides, don’t they? Isn’t that more interesting?” 

Taeyong has to admit the past two weeks have been interesting. _Tonight_ has certainly been interesting. There’s something discordant in Jaehyun, but sometimes the most jarring strings of notes can layer into the most beautiful harmonies. So Taeyong lets Jaehyun hold him, as they sit crumpled together on the stage where, tomorrow night, they’ll be performing in front of hundreds of people, weaving together their separate melodies into something beautiful and new.

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone :) thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed! kudos & comments always very appreciated if you want to leave them <33 
> 
> twt: [@TtotheYong](https://twitter.com/TtotheYong)


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